


On This Winter's Night With You

by TheMarvelousMadMadamMim



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Mutual Pining, Pre-Series, Snowed In, fireside confession, palm kisses, slightly slow burn bc you know i can't help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23705953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim/pseuds/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim
Summary: When Ada and Hecate get snowed in at Ada's ancestral home, there's nothing left to do but start a fire and wait out the night. But it seems a different kind of fire is slowly burning.
Relationships: Amelia Cackle | Ada Cackle/Hardbroom
Comments: 27
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassiopeiasara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopeiasara/gifts).



> So, during one of the very first Toad & Cass videos, Cass mentioned her fic wishlist. Several elements of this fic was included on said list. I mulled around potential ideas and, adding a few extra "jams" Cass mentioned in other tumblr conversations, created this little story.
> 
> The title comes from Sarah McLachlan's "Song for a Winter's Night", a nod to Cass's fic titling convention.
> 
> Set several years before the series. At this point, Ada is still auburn/brunette, fyi.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't know fuck-all about estate taxes or chess. Let's hope it's not too noticeable.

It was Agatha’s fault that they were in this mess, unsurprisingly. Hecate Hardbroom was quite careful not to point that out—Agatha’s departure was still far too recent, far too keen for her tender friend’s emotions.

It started just before the end of fall term. Agatha had been gone for several months now, and Ada had gotten a notice about some properties at the edge of the Cackle Estate, which spanned several hundred acres.

Well, technically it started long before that—it started when Ada became headmistress, and brought her sister in as co-headmistress. They had divided the duties of the academy and the estate upon which it was built. Ada saw to the day-to-day running of the school; Agatha had taken the long term commitments of the estate, such a leasing farmlands, ensuring crop rotation, and letting out the small collection of farmhouses and cottages that dotted along the edge of the property.

So Hecate Hardbroom, at least, was thoroughly unsurprised when Ada received a notice that taxes had not been paid on the original estate site, where the Cackle name had first taken root. Ada, of course, was immediately in a state, confused as to how her sister could have neglected such a task and worried over how to afford such a large amount of fines and fees.

Hecate, ever the diligent deputy, had spent quite a few long nights trawling through the law and tax section of the school library, which one could imagine had perhaps never been utilized before. Though her dedication had nothing to do with her duties as a deputy. It even pushed a bit past her responsibilities as a friend.

She loved Ada, you see. Not that she’d ever confess it, not that she’d ever let it show or mar the wonderful friendship they’d built over the years. She’d only just allowed herself to acknowledge it, perhaps two years prior (exactly two years, two weeks, and four days prior, at a Yule log lighting, but who was counting?). And with that acknowledgement came the acceptance that she could never act upon it.

Well, _almost_ never act upon it.

Because running oneself ragged over the distress of one’s beloved, simply to ease the worried lines around their breathtakingly blue eyes, was technically an act of love, Hecate supposed. Even she could admit that much.

And she could allow herself that much, she told herself. She’d allowed herself a bit more than that—she did everything within her power to keep Ada safe and happy, to make her feel seen and valued and worthy. Because she loved Ada and wanted her to have the absolute best version of her life that she possibly could.

That, of course, included not being saddled with someone like Hecate, who was often far too much for anyone to handle, whose confinement ensured that anyone willing to stay with her would have to do so at the cost of personal freedom, who didn’t possess nearly enough whimsy or wonderfulness to truly give someone like Ada everything she needed and deserved in a lover.

And that was fine, of course. Hecate was used to not getting what she wanted out of life, but finding a way to carve as much goodness as she could out of the hard spaces, all the same. She did it with Ada, too—she could be caring and tender and supportive, could survive just fine on Ada’s friendship, on her warm smile and her easy laughter and her kindness in turn, without needing anything more.

But _needing_ and _wanting_ are two very different beasts. Sometimes the wanting was so much that Hecate had to distance herself, to make herself so busy with classes or expense reports or whatever else could keep her mind away from thoughts of Ada until the gnawing, bellowing thing was calmer and more easily pushed back into its box.

It was always harder, at Yuletide. After all, that was when Hecate had first realized her love for Ada went beyond the bond of friendship and covenly sisterhood. Not that it was hard to see why—this time of year made Ada shine even more brightly, glowing skin and rosy cheeks and dancing eyes. She was as magical as the season itself. Coupled with the fact that they generally were the only two left in the castle, with no school-related tasks to help occupy Hecate’s mind—yes, there were entire days that Hecate had to practically lock herself away, forcing herself to read a book or work on a new potion lest she find herself following the woman around like a lovesick puppy.

Currently it was made infinitely harder by the fact that Hecate, absolute idiot that she was, volunteered to go with Ada to actually look at the old estate during winter half-term. She just couldn’t help herself—Ada looked so overwhelmed as she discussed it over teatime, announcing that she wanted to see the old place again, to see if perhaps she could fix it up and rent it out, or perhaps even convince one of her younger siblings or her nieces to take over the house.

 _Someone should be making a home of it_ , she’d said, her gaze oddly wistful. Hecate’s heart had clenched in response, not sure what was making Ada so sad but aching all the same at her sadness. The idea of Ada, alone and vulnerable while wandering through an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, did not help the worried feeling in Hecate’s gut.

They’d set out the next day. Snow was already softly falling as they left the academy, but it certainly wasn’t anything they hadn’t flown in before. They’d touched down in the front courtyard just before lunch, and Ada had set to looking around the property, checking out the barns and sheds whilst Hecate followed along, making a list of all the repairs needed, from fences to door hinges to roof shingles.

They’d sat side by side on a low stone wall, sharing the lunch Hecate had packed—again, this was the way she allowed herself to love Ada, filling a basket with things she knew the woman would enjoy. The sun shone through the sickly grey clouds briefly, highlighting the reddish tint of Ada’s auburn hair, and Hecate had remembered just how much she loved the woman beside her, and how painful it was, at times. Painful because no heart was built to hold that much adoration, and sometimes it strained under the weight of it all, the desire and the fear and the grief over something that was lost before it could ever begin.

Then Ada had hopped down from the wall (even at its low height, her short little legs didn’t touch the ground when she sat, and it only made Hecate love her more), and announced that they should finally tackle the house itself. Hecate had shoved her messy feelings back into the far corner of her heart, ducked her head, and agreed.

And that was when the trouble began.

* * *

Ada’s nose instantly rebelled against the acrid smell as the front door opened, perhaps for the first time in over a decade. She blinked quickly at the dust floating through the air, disturbed by their entrance. Everything was gloomy and shadowed, making the cold, musty air seem even more oppressive.

Over her shoulder, Hecate stirred, obviously as taken aback by the house as she was. Not for the first time today, Ada was grateful for the woman’s company. And not for the first time over the past few years, she counted herself lucky for having a friend willing to wade through the ridiculousness of her life.

Because this _was_ ridiculous. Neither of them should have to be here, fixing Agatha’s mess once again. As usual, Ada felt a complicated pang in her chest at the thought of her twin, irritation and affection, missing and relief at her absence. She stifled a sigh (mainly because taking a huge breath meant also taking a lungful of the awful smell) and moved forward. Regardless of whether or not they should be, they were here, and they had work to do.

“It looks nicer, when there’s light,” she informed Hecate. Even without glancing over her shoulder, she knew the exact expression her friend was making—wide eyes, one arched brow, the corner of her mouth opened slightly in a shock.

Still, she did glance back, feeling a prick of amusement to see that she’d guessed correctly. Though one could say that the guess wasn’t too hard to make, given that she spent far too much time staring at the woman’s face and cataloguing her expressions like some religious zealot studying a sacred text.

She tore her gaze away from that face, thankful that Hecate was still too distracted to notice Ada’s staring. She smoothed her hands down the front of her cape, before gingerly removing her gloves. Again, she smiled—Hecate had magicked her the gloves as they’d taken off from Cackle’s, as always overly-concerned about Ada’s health and physical comfort. Sometimes, Ada could quietly admit (though only to herself), she forgot her gloves or her cap or her scarf on purpose, because she knew Hecate would notice. The woman would chide Ada, though somehow her admonishments sounded so tender that Ada actually looked forward to them, and then produce whatever item was needed. They always rippled with Hecate’s magic, now so utterly familiar that it was almost a comfort in itself. And Ada could pretend, for just a moment, that it all meant something more than just a vigilant friend taking care of her.

It was, like this entire escapade, absolutely ridiculous. But Ada couldn’t help herself sometimes. She spent so much time being good, being capable, being in control of her emotions and the feelings they inspired—sometimes, she just needed a moment of weakness. A moment to simply rest, rather than constantly fighting against the thing that had been blossoming in her heart for so long now that she couldn’t quite remember when or how it started.

She needed moments of respite—she _wanted_ more, much more. More than a moment, and more than little glimpses of what could be and yet would never be.

Self indulgent, yes. But it didn’t hurt anyone (except her own poor heart, but it was used to that by now, wasn’t it?). Besides, she always returned the favor, though perhaps in different ways. She made sure Hecate’s beloved lab had every convenience and ingredient she ever wished for—and yes, at times, she gently had to remind the woman to leave it long enough to have a bite to eat or endure a walk around the grounds because exercise was important. She paid attention to the things Hecate liked but would never ask for, tea blends and holiday traditions she favored (though she generally never said so aloud), and tried to incorporate them as much as possible into their life. She made sure to make Hecate laugh, when things got too tense, and to be her calm when her anxiety made it too difficult to do on her own.

In the end, Ada wasn’t sure what had come first—had her love for Hecate sprung from the care Ada gave her in their friendship, or had the care always come from the love itself, somehow there from the very beginning?

There had always been _something_ there, from the beginning—of that much Ada was certain. Her first morning in the staff room was still crystalline, the sight of Hecate, frowning slightly as she read some book, forever etched in her memory.

Ada glanced over at that face again, which was currently turned upwards, towards the high vaulted ceiling of the foyer. Cackle Manor had a large open staircase with a banistered walkway wrapping around all four sides of the entry way, opening the space up even more. She could see Hecate’s impressive mind whirring and working, imagining the wooden beams and dark walnut walls in their prime, polished and shining under the warm lights of the chandelier.

“It was always beautiful at Yuletide,” Ada supplied, stepping closer again. She looked up as well, gesturing towards the staircase. “My grandmother would have holly and ivy all along the banisters—beautiful, though a bit impractical.”

Hecate hummed, “Sounds like your decorating skills are hereditary, then.”

Ada grinned, feeling a flush at the dry amusement in her friend’s tone. Hecate glanced over at her, as if checking to make sure Ada had understood the humor and wasn’t offended. Ada offered a warm smile of reassurance, feeling another small delight at the way Hecate’s shoulders eased in response, just a tad.

Goddess help her, she loved knowing that in some small way, she affected Hecate, too. Even if it wasn’t entirely in the way that Hecate affected her.

And goddess help her, she couldn’t help but tease, “Ah, so you _do_ agree that my decorations are beautiful, then.”

Hecate’s dark eyes flicked heavenward again, a half-hearted eyeroll that was greatly mitigated by her lips’ attempts not to twist into a smirk. She merely shook her head and clipped further into the darkened foyer, glancing around for a beat before turning to face Ada again.

“A good airing out is in order, I think,” she announced. She didn’t actually do anything until Ada nodded in acquiescence. Then, with a theatrical spread of her arms, she pushed out with her magic, shunting open all the windows in the house.

The winter wind blew in, shockingly cold—and then, just as quickly as it came, it disappeared. The entire house rattled and shook as every door and window slammed shut simultaneously.

Hecate jumped like a scared cat, fingers flexing out wildly. “What on _earth_?”

Ada was turning around in a small circle, equally shocked, “I—I don’t know—”

And then she remembered just how paranoid her grandparents had been. Then she _did_ know. She turned back to Hecate, barely visible in the weak winter sunlight wafting through the windows.

“So, the thing is,” her voice was positively sheepish. “The house has…protective spells. To use magic here, you must be given permission by the owner of the house.”

“But you…nodded,” Hecate gestured weakly towards Ada. She felt a bit foolish, truth be told—was this something all magical households did, something she didn’t know because since her confinement, she’d never been in a magical home again? Was this something she should have known?

Ada must have understood some measure of her confusion, because she gently explained, “No, you see—my grandparents were rather…overzealous, in their efforts to defend and protect Cackle Manor. There’s a special chant one must use, to prove to the house that you are the rightful owner—and then another special chant to allow a newcomer to use their magic within the space.”

Hecate’s big dark eyes cautiously scanned the walls, as if she were instilled with a new level of respect for the somewhat sentient house.

“And the issue is,” Ada took a shallow breath. “I don’t…rightly remember it. It’s been ages, you see. And I—well, honestly, I never really thought I’d ever come back here.”

Hecate’s expression softened at the confession. Not for the first time, Ada selfishly wished that the concern in that beautiful face came from more than a place of caring friendship.

 _Ada_. Hecate couldn’t think beyond that. Sweet, darling Ada. Even with her brilliant-yet-chagrined smile, the odd hurt behind her eyes was still visible. Hecate wasn’t sure where it came from—much like the wistful look at teatime yesterday afternoon—but she felt a pain at witnessing it on the face of someone who deserved so much goodness.

Like always, she looked for a way to ease the burden. “So…we can’t use magic, correct? Surely some of this can be done by hand.”

Ada blinked hard at that, well-aware of how little Hecate Hardbroom did without magical intervention of some kind or another. Hecate merely opened her hands with a slight air of _what else can we do?_

“Right,” Ada nodded in agreement. “First step, we’ll open all the windows on the first floor, and find some lights. Then we’ll set out to see if we can find the chant somewhere.”

Surely her grandparents had left a physical copy of it behind. They had to have, right?

Hecate was already clipping across the hardwood floor in her usual determined pace, pushing open the sliding doorway into the drawing room. Ada countered by going the opposite direction, into what was once her grandfather’s study. She could hear the heavy scrape of windows opening, the slight puff from Hecate as she gathered her strength to push each one open. The study had far less windows than the drawing room, and Ada made quick work of them, taking a moment to simply lean out and take a few deep breaths of fresh air.

She noticed that the snow had really begun to accumulate, since their arrival. The little dirt track leading further into the fields had been muddy when they arrived, but over the past few hours, it had become completely covered in a fine sheen of fresh snow.

She glanced up at the grey sky. It was already mid-afternoon, which meant at this time of year, the day was practically over.

“Maybe we should come back another day,” she raised her voice to carry across the foyer and into the drawing room. “It’ll be dark soon and there’s no way we’ll finish it all before then, especially not without magic.”

There was a pause. Ada could feel Hecate weighing and calculating.

“Let’s see if we can find the chant first,” Hecate suggested. Ada got the feeling that Hecate did not relish the idea of having to return here. “You look for the spell, I’ll continue with the windows.”

Ada nodded, though Hecate couldn’t see it—somehow, she knew Hecate could sense it anyways. Then she turned her attention to her grandfather’s study, which seemed like a logical place as any to begin their search. It felt unfair, sifting through papers while Hecate was busy fighting against warped wood frames and heavy glass panes, but it did make sense. So Ada pushed herself to work as quickly as possible, hoping she’d find the spell in time to save Hecate some physical labor.

It wasn’t until Hecate appeared in the doorway, holding a lit candle like something out of a gothic novel, that Ada realized just how much time had passed.

Hecate held up another candle, currently unlit, already on a silver handled stick as well. “I found a stash in a cupboard.”

Ada wasn’t sure exactly how long she’d been looking, but she could tell that Hecate had been busy. Despite the cold air drifting in from the windows, Hecate’s cheeks were rosy. Her hair was wisping out of its usual uptight bun, and there was a smudge of dust upon her left cheek. Her winter coat was smudged with dust as well, with a few cobwebs clinging to her shoulder.

“Oh, you’ve—I still haven’t found anything,” Ada admitted, feeling a wash of guilt.

“It’s alright,” Hecate answered the unspoken apology in Ada’s expression. “I’m sure it’s somewhere around here. Perhaps your mother knows. You can mirror her once we get home.”

Home. Their home, together. Oh, how Ada wished it was as intimate as it sounded, as easy and casual as Hecate made it seem.

“Either way,” Hecate’s gaze slid to the open windows. “We should be off soon. The wind’s been picking up and soon it will be too dark to—”

She was interrupted by a particularly heavy gust of wind. The stacks of papers Ada had accumulated blew around the room like wild, and the candle snuffed out. Ada hadn’t noticed how much darker the room had been until the arrival of Hecate’s flame—but now it was startlingly obvious.

“Yes, I see your point,” Ada stepped around the desk, moving towards the windows. She began pulling them shut. The wind howled again, sending in a vicious burst of ice and snow.

Hecate helped her shut the remaining windows. Wordlessly, they moved on to the drawing room to do the same. Ada couldn’t help but smile at the realization that even without magic, even in matters that had no bearing on their working relationship, they were wonderfully in-sync.

It was a stark reminder of all she had to lose, if she ever confessed her feelings. She was well aware of Hecate’s confinement—as well as her refusal to have it ended, and her reasons behind the refusal. Ada knew that, in many ways, she was just as bound to the academy herself.

And more importantly, she was bound to Hecate. Hecate, who couldn’t possibly feel the same way as Ada. Hecate, who would withdraw herself from Ada’s presence, if she knew. Hecate, who brought so much to Ada’s life, who gave Ada so much already through her friendship and support. There wasn’t a single aspect of their current relationship that Ada could bear to even consider losing. It was selfish to want for more, and far too cruel to push for more that could never be, only to ruin all that they already had.

Ada gritted her teeth and threw herself back into her task, reaching up to grab another wooden window frame. This one was stuck, barely even moving as she pulled with all her might. She heard the solid _thwack_ of Hecate bringing down another window, followed by another soon after—but she still couldn’t get this one to close.

Then Hecate was behind her, leaning in to reach the frame. All of Ada’s inner promises of not wishing for more, not risking more vanished in a white hot flash at the solid feeling of Hecate’s body pressing into her back, straining to help her bring the window down, her arms half-wrapping around Ada’s shoulders as her chin pressed into the side of Ada’s winter cap, Hecate’s heavy breath audible even over the howling wind.

Ada didn’t have to presence of mind in that moment _not_ to imagine all those sensations in an entirely different setting. Thank the goddess that Hecate couldn’t see her face or the furious blush that spread across it.

Hecate gave a particularly loud huff and finally, the window moved. Still, it took both of them to fully pull it down. Ada secured the latch with a sigh.

It was then that Hecate realized exactly what she’d done. She jumped back like a scalded cat, hands twittering haplessly down the front of her coat ( _Ada_ , Ada had just been there, pressed against Hecate’s chest, pushing against her hips, warm and solid and real and _right there_ ). She knew better than to apologize—it wasn’t the first time there had been an awkward physical moment between them, and Hecate long since learned that apologizing only prolonged the agony. Ada wouldn’t mention it and neither would she, and they’d go on without a hitch (well, _almost_ —because Hecate would find herself replaying the sensations over and over again later that night, cursing her own tittering body for its ridiculous overreaction while still fully allowing it to blossom under the touch of her own hand, eyes shut tight as she thought of Ada, yet again, hating herself for doing it but needing it all the same).

“What a storm!” Ada’s cheeks were glowing, most likely from the sharp winter air. Her eyes were dancing in delight, and Hecate was half-certain that woman hadn’t even noticed Hecate’s faux pas. It was possible, wasn’t it? They were both wearing so many layers and if Ada didn’t think of her like that, if Ada’s body didn’t turn into an electric current at the slightest touch, then maybe she hadn’t noticed at all, or maybe it hadn’t been enough to care?

The thought was comforting, though it was somehow a painful comfort, knowing that Ada could touch her and feel nothing inside. She tried to remind herself that was exactly what she wanted, but even in the confines of her mind, it sounded flat and insincere.

“There are still….” Hecate motioned over her shoulder, to the rest of the house. She was short of breath, for some reason.

“Oh, right, of course,” Ada hurried through the drawing room’s other door, which led into a narrow hallway, creating a maze of rooms and cupboards. Hecate was right behind her, and they quickly fell into sync again, shutting and fastening the windows before moving on to the next room.

“I’m sorry you went through all this trouble for nothing,” Ada grimaced, securing another window lock. They were in the dining room now, nearly finished with the entire downstairs. Thankfully Hecate had only tackled the ground floor.

“Not for nothing,” Hecate decided, dusting her hands as she looked around. “I think it aired out quite nicely.”

Here was another reason she loved Hecate, Ada knew. She never allowed Ada to feel badly over such things, never allowed her to beat herself up. Before Hecate, Ada had been so used to having every mistake aimed back against her that she’d come to confessing them as soon as they happened. It hurt less, if you were the one acknowledging your own shortcomings—and it took the wind out of anyone who might be winding up to throw them back at you, most of the time.

But Hecate didn’t allow that. Over the years, Ada had found that her ingrained reflexes of self-flagellation were more of a wind-up for the younger witch than her mistakes. Hecate wouldn’t rake her over the coals for mistakes or misjudgments, but she’d fight Ada all night long for blaming herself.

It was lovely. _She_ was lovely.

Even now, Ada mused, unable to stop herself from reaching up to remove a cobweb from Hecate’s hair. Hecate stilled, eyes wide and startled, but her expression melted in understanding when Ada held up the cobweb for inspection.

“Bringing back mementos?” Ada teased. Hecate blushed in response.

“Speaking of back,” Hecate pushed forward, clipping into the hallway. “We should really be getting home.”

The worry in her voice was palpable. Ada realized that she hadn’t been particularly paying attention to the weather—but no doubt her diligent deputy had. She hurried along behind the woman, whose longer legs easily ate up the distance to the front door. It was practically pitch black in the foyer now; Ada had to squint to even see Hecate. The light fumbling sound informed her that Hecate was equally unable to see, trying to find the front door’s handle.

Hecate hauled the heavy wooden door open, only to be greeted by a dismaying sight. The howling wind from before had apparently brought a few friends with it—the snow was in drifts now, the sharp wind now filled with thick snowflakes and occasional shards of ice.

“Oh,” Ada’s voice was right behind her. “Oh, we’re not going anywhere in this.”

Hecate sighed in agreement. She heaved the door shut and went to find the candle stash again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ok, I *do* know enough about chess to know a king can't technically be captured, but that's if you're playing legally. And I think with Ada, Hecate plays a slightly looser version. As we have seen before, Hecate generally likes rules when they work to her advantage, and picks and chooses which ones to follow based on that (looking at you witches-don't-have-staffs storyline...)

It was, simultaneously, Hecate’s worst nightmare and a dream come true. And, simultaneously, she inwardly kicked herself for volunteering to join Ada, while being equally grateful that she’d decided to tag along.

The wonderful part was how quickly Ada turned disaster into delight. They’d lit more candles and gathered enough supplies to start a fire in the drawing room’s heavy stone hearth. Ada had realized the way to get around the house’s enchantment was to step outside and use magic to call forth blankets and food—so now they enjoyed a fireside picnic, shoes and winter cloaks abandoned in a heap at the edge of the rug, both bundled in large, soft knit wraps until the fire warmed the room enough to be without them. Hecate found that she was already quite warm, just being so close to Ada, just seeing her so far removed from their usual scenery. The firelight made her eyes dance even more, and her skin glowed so warmly that Hecate found herself outright staring more than once.

The staring was also a bit of the awful part. Because here they were, in what could potentially be an overwhelmingly romantic setting, and yet only one of them held romantic feelings. None of this was helping Hecate’s lovesickness, and the idea of spending the rest of the night here, so close to Ada and no way to relieve the pressure that had gone from simmer to overblown boil since the window-shutting incident, was absolute agony. Hecate hated it all the more for knowing just how shocked and disconcerted Ada would be, if she ever knew.

Hecate’s self-loathing was interrupted by Ada’s blue eyes, looking up at her in a questioning expression.

Fuck. Hecate had been staring again, hadn’t heard Ada’s question at all.

“Apologies, I was…distracted with worry,” she supplied, rather lamely. Though it wasn’t entirely untrue— _I’m worried I might just try to kiss you, and everything between us will be ruined forever._

Ada gave a warm smile, reaching over to pat Hecate’s arm, “Hecate, dear, it’ll be alright. Tomorrow the storm will ease up and we’ll be home before lunchtime at the latest.”

She was so certain, Hecate couldn’t help but believe her. Still, Hecate pointed out, “Perhaps we should…resume the search for this incantation.”

“Perhaps,” Ada shifted a little, as if stifling an air of disappointment. “But it’s so nice here, can’t we wait until tomorrow?”

Ada clutched her hands together, watching every nuance of Hecate’s expression for any signs of hesitation or discomfort. A foolish part of her heart (practically her whole heart, truth be told, because it became absolutely foolish around this woman and her quiet charms) had hoped that Hecate was enjoying this odd little adventure as much as she was. The warmth of the fire, the way it crackled under the low tones of their conversation, how easy and honey-slow everything felt, in this soft little bubble of time and space. How whisperingly close it was to something more, something Ada could never have but would yearn for, all the same.

But it was a bit impossible to hope Hecate could enjoy this, when she didn’t have the same kind of emotions behind it as Ada.

Sure, there was affection and yes, even love—not the romantic kind, but just as deep and powerful, Ada knew. And yes, there were times when their little exchanges could even look like flirting, to the untrained eye. But that was just a creation born of the friendly affection Hecate felt, nothing more. Friends teased, didn’t they? Friends shared warm smiles and inside jokes, didn’t they?

Still, Ada couldn’t help but notice the way Hecate’s dark eyes flicked down to the hollow of her throat, gaze lingering and softening, ever-so-slightly. Ada’s heart slammed into overdrive, even as her mind screamed not to read too much into a glance.

“As you wish,” Hecate returned in a low tone. She ducked her head slightly, gaze shifting back to the fire.

Goddess above, she was beautiful, Ada thought. Her chest swelled with the thought—Ada genuinely feared she might burst if she didn’t siphon at least some of it off.

So she said, rather diplomatically, “You look like a painting, in this light.”

Dammit, that was not nearly as unassuming as she’d planned it to be. Hecate blinked hard, eyes snapping back to Ada in surprise.

“That’s…very kind,” Hecate said simply. _Oh, Ada, you have no idea what your innocent words do to me, I'd beg you to stop if it wouldn’t give me away so easily._

Ada felt like an absolute idiot—but her chagrin was quickly forgotten under the warmth of Hecate’s gaze, cataloguing her own face. Hecate’s mouth opened again, as if she were going to say something, and then shut. Still her eyes stayed on Ada’s.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, Hecate thought. The way Ada’s eyes seemed to shine. Hopeful and terrified and tinged with an emotion that Hecate couldn’t name but still could feel, warm and tight in her chest. The way her cheeks seemed so rosy, so…glowing with…admiration?

 _This is why you realized your love on Yule_ , Hecate reminded herself. _Ada is like the goddess herself, ineffable, enigmatic, brighter than the fire itself._

There was something fearful in Hecate’s face. Something pinched and almost painful. Ada felt the need to shield her, to steer them to safer waters.

So she offered a smile and said, “How about a game of chess, to pass the time? I know they used to keep a set around, though it’s much larger than what we’re used to.”

Hecate’s face lost its odd expression, filling with curiosity as her eyebrows lifted in query. “How much larger?”

* * *

Much larger, it turned out. Ridiculously large, if Hecate were being honest. The queens were the length of her entire hand, with the smaller pawns being about the size of her pinky. The board was a woven mat, easily placed on the rug beside the fire—but it was nearly three feet wide. She felt a bit like Alice in Wonderland, slightly disconcerted by the shift in scale.

Ada didn’t know why her grandfather had possessed a set like this, but he’d always had it, as long as she could remember.

 _It’ll make it all the easier for you to see exactly how I beat you_ , Ada had added with a raised eyebrow, and Hecate had laughed at the predictable amount of smack-talk.

They’d been playing chess for over three years now—though they didn’t play nearly as much as such a length of time would imply. Ada had never won a single time. That never stopped her from being absolutely certain every game that this time, she’d beat Hecate Hardbroom rather soundly.

How could Hecate not love her, most desperately? A woman who looked at the odds and laughed, who shook her fist in aggressive positivity against the failures of the past and never let her smile falter for even a second—yes, Hecate was quite helpless (and happy in her helplessness, most of the time).

Somehow, Hecate seemed to always know the move Ada was about to make. Ada reached for her bishop, and Hecate’s low tone, so very close to her Miss Hardbroom voice, drawled, “ _Temperance_ , Ada.”

Ada took a second to look at the board again. She saw Hecate’s point. She decided against her rasher move, and opted for something a little more subtle.

Hecate’s small hum of approval was almost drowned out by the crackling of the logs on the fire, but it hit Ada square in the chest, all the same.

This was where the line was blurred, Ada knew. When it was hard to remember that Hecate was just being a friend, just being friendly. On the rare occasions they did play chess, Ada would spend the night in the most fitful and aching of dreams, and it would take a few days to bring herself back down to reality again.

Because Hecate teased and taunted, hummed and huffed, pouted and smirked—all while drilling Ada with the most intensely direct eye contact. Sometimes, when Ada would make a particularly cheeky remark, she’d just take a beat to watch Ada, as if she were a big jungle cat that just might pounce and devour her whole—and oh, Ada was certain she had _no idea_ what her expression truly looked like, when she looked at Ada like that.

“I’m just lulling you into a false sense of security,” Ada informed her later, when she smugly lifted Ada’s knight off the board.

“Well, I must say, it’s working fantastically,” Hecate drawled. Without glancing, she set the knight to the side, fingers flexing out dramatically—Ada followed the movement, noting all the other pieces of hers that were already assembled off the field.

“I like a dramatic comeback,” Ada sat up a bit, adding a light primness to her tone.

Hecate pushed air through her impressive nose, obviously amused. Her dark eyes were locked on the board, slowing roving the tiles, mind busily whirring as she planned her next dozen moves.

The corner of her mouth always dipped down at bit, when she was focused. Ada always wanted to kiss it, just lightly, when she saw it.

However, it lifted back into a smile when Ada took Hecate’s queen. Mostly because of Ada’s ridiculous amount of crowing over the move—it always filled Ada with immeasurable joy and warmth, the way Hecate actually enjoyed Ada’s antics when they played.

Ada didn’t like games, generally. Agatha had always been far too competitive, had always out-maneuvered her, making her feel sluggish and stupid—and Agatha always had a nasty temper, when she was out to win, and an awful need to gloat whenever she did. Ada didn’t like seeing it, didn’t like feeling the awful tension coiling in her gut over something as silly as gin rummy or checkers. Ada couldn’t make jokes or be even remotely playful during games with her sister. The competitiveness was stifling.

It hadn’t been that way with Hecate. The first time they’d played together, it had been during a summer half-term. Hecate hadn’t asked her to play—she’d merely set up the board and played against herself for several nights as Ada knitted by the window, comfortable silence reigning between them. Ada had watched her, noticing how Hecate became frustrated at her ability to predict her own moves (the downside of playing against oneself), and she’d offered, a bit apprehensively, to play against.

It hadn’t taken Hecate long to beat her—Hecate had been playing consistently for years, and Ada hadn’t even _looked_ at a chess board in ages. Afterwards, Ada had half-expected some kind of retort. Instead, Hecate had cocked her head to the side, _Would you like to know all the ways you almost beat me?_

It was the framing of the question that made Ada love her. No mention of mistakes, but rather opportunities. Ada had learned a lot from it, though she still wasn’t up to Hecate’s skill—granted, she spent most of her time watching Hecate, rather than plotting her next move.

That was still Ada’s greatest weakness. Though now, she felt far more confident, and had more history with Hecate, which allowed her to devolve into snarking back and forth in ways that she’d never been able to with her sister.

Maybe because every quip, every parry and retort, was laced with such amused affection, on both sides. It was a game in itself, finding the right quip to land at the right moment, being quick enough to offer a retort.

Yes, Hecate might win the match, but if they kept score solely on who made the other laugh the most, then Ada won every time, in a landslide. She took immeasurable pride in it.

Ada still played impulsively, Hecate noted, as she did every time they played. She never really corrected Ada’s choices, because Ada was clever enough to realize her mistakes when she made them, most of the time. Sometimes, Ada would ask for pointers afterwards, but for the most part, Hecate understood that Ada merely played for Hecate’s benefit, while Ada enjoyed simply getting to joke and banter.

Hecate didn’t mind. She never played Ada to improve her skill—she played Ada to simply play _with_ Ada.

Despite having no alcohol whatsoever, Hecate began to feel a bit warm and reckless, the way she always did with wine or witches’ brew. Maybe it was the novelty of being away from the school—here they were in a private home, a home that could be theirs, in another life, cozy and happy in front of a fire, as simple as ever they’d been. Maybe it was the oddness of the day’s adventure, or the leftover emotions from her body’s reaction to being pressed against Ada earlier that evening. Maybe it was just the season, which always made her love Ada a little more openly, a little more daringly than she should.

She teased more. She knew she did. She let her voice slip into tones and nuances that she’d never dared (not with Ada—with other lovers, with the ones that she’d always known would never stay, yes, she’d let them see and hear those things). She felt Ada slipping into this grey area, too, felt her teasing more and growing more risqué in her retorts. Somehow, it was as if they’d acknowledged the unprecedentedness of the occasion without any discussion at all, and had mutually decided to take a vacation from their own selves.

Hecate reminded herself that this was only an interlude. They’d be back to themselves, back to their lives soon.

Somehow, all she could focus on was the fact that it would be soon, but not _right now._ And right now, well…that seemed to be all that mattered.

“My, my, Hecate, looks like you really are in for it.”

Hecate blinked, realizing once again that she hadn’t been paying attention. Ada’s hand came across the board leisurely, fingertips dancing lightly over the air before taking Hecate’s rook (those fingers, oh, as if she wasn’t already dealing with enough physical reactions to quell).

With a satisfying thud, Ada proudly sat the rook next to her other winnings. Hecate had to admit, she’d been far more distracted tonight, and Ada had put a considerable dent in her set.

“I’d say ten moves or less, and I’ve got you.” Ada’s voice was so certain, so smooth and teasing. ( _oh, you’ve already got me, don’t you see—oh please don’t see!_ )

Hecate glanced up, seeing Ada’s expression dancing with unmitigated glee. Her heart seized. How could the woman be both endearingly adorable and outright scintillating at the same time? It defied reason.

It was a pity to spoil her fun.

Hecate said that last bit, out loud. Leaning forward on her left hand so that she could reach across the board to move her pawn, she didn’t even try to stifle a smirk at Ada’s small cry of dismay as she realized her mistake.

“Foul!” Ada cried.

“Wrong game,” Hecate pointed out. She leaned further in, brandishing her bishop with a ridiculous sense of theatricality before gingerly tipping over Ada’s king so lightly that it made the buildup seem like an awful fuss.

Ada huffed in begrudging amusement.

“Sore winner,” she murmured, intentionally loud enough for Hecate to hear. Granted, Hecate’s ear was about a foot from Ada’s mouth, so she could have heard even the slightest breath from Ada, at that point.

She looked up smugly. Ada pretending to be upset over something was one of the most adorable sights she’d ever seen, and she so rarely got to see it. Ada being relaxed and open enough to be this silly—usually daily life at the academy had a low-running current of constant stress that didn’t allow for such frivolities.

It’s why she loved the holidays so much, Hecate realized. Why she’d realized that she loved Ada, during that time. Because it was when Ada could be her truest, most distilled self. Her smile was like spring, Hecate thought hazily, the corners of her own mouth lifting at the thought.

Hecate’s eyes were on Ada’s mouth, and her own lips moved as slowly and sweetly as syrup as she smiled.

She looked like she wanted to kiss her, Ada realized, shock and delight blossoming in her chest as softly as Hecate’s gaze. Involuntarily, she shifted forward, ever-so-slightly.

Hecate’s eyes flicked up to meet Ada’s, and there was a full beat. It was then that Hecate truly realized how close they were. When she’d reached over to take Ada’s king, Ada hadn’t shifted away—after all, they were used to spending so much of their days side by side, personal space didn’t mean much to them now. But now, with their noses just a few inches apart, it was like being too close to an open, bubbling cauldron—the air was thick and hot, crackling with a kind of magic that didn’t come from anything but connection between them.

Hecate watched every nuance of Ada’s expression as she shifted closer, just a breath. Ada blinked, but didn’t pull away. Without actually moving, she seemed to strain forward, closer to Hecate.

A question asked and answered. Numbly, Hecate’s brain registered that at this point, she was absolutely going to kiss Ada Cackle—she kept her gaze locked on those burning blue eyes as she slowly set her bishop on the mat and put her weight into her right hand, moving closer. Her eyes closed as soon as she realized that Ada was moving to meet her.

It was like the breath before the plunge. Soft, shallow, almost-nothing of a kiss. A brush of lips, nothing more.

Still, Hecate exhaled like she’d been hit in her gut. And somehow, Ada suddenly realized that she’d been wrong, for quite some time. You didn’t exhale like that when you kissed your best friend out of sheer curiosity. You exhaled like that when your wildest dreams had finally come true.

Ada knew this, because Ada exhaled exactly like that, too.

Still Hecate pulled back slightly, just enough to properly focus on Ada’s eyes. Ada couldn’t see anything beyond the amber flecks in her pupils, pulled out by the flames in the hearth—but she felt the gentle brush of Hecate’s fingertips, along the edge of her jaw.

Another question, in need of an answer. Permission being sought, a silent _is this ok, are you ok?_

Ada blinked, as close to a nod as she could manage, and let her hand come up to lightly capture Hecate’s left wrist, keeping Hecate’s fingers along her jaw.

_Yes. Stay._

Hecate understood. Her fingertips slid further back, becoming fingers, palm, full warm and weighted hand against the side of Ada’s neck, pulling her closer as she brought their lips back together.

This time, it was solid and electric. Ada couldn’t stop the small sound she made in response. And just like in chess, Hecate never let an advantage remain unseized—she let her tongue slip past Ada’s teeth, drawing even more sound out at the instant reaction that the new level of intimacy created.

The room was much too hot, Ada realized hazily. She found herself tilting back, yet still wanting Hecate to stay with her.

However, Hecate felt the slight retreat and immediately stopped, pulling further away. Her dark eyes were wide and filled with panic.

 _Have I overstepped?_ Hecate’s brain screamed. Still, she couldn’t get her vocal chords to work—most likely due to the absolute fear gripping her throat like a vise.

“Oh,” Ada said simply. She still looked a bit surprised, but in a breathlessly delighted way. The tightness in Hecate’s throat eased immediately.

But she still needed some kind of confirmation, “That was…”

“Lovely,” Ada finished with a deeper grin. Her dimples made Hecate’s heart race even faster (it was becoming a bit alarming, truth be told—it might just burst right out of her chest, right into Ada’s lap). Then Ada’s expression shifted to something less delighted as she quietly prompted, “Wasn’t it?”

The uncertainty made Hecate want to kiss her again, to kiss it away, to kiss her until the Ada with dancing eyes and dimples returned.

“It was,” she agreed in a low tone. Ada’s smile returned and Hecate’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” Ada admitted quietly.

Hecate gave a low, rippling chuckle, breathless at the realization. “Me, too.”

Now it was Ada’s turn to look surprised.

It was in that moment that both witches realized they’d been idiots. They shared a small, almost embarrassed smile, amused at their own antics as they both simultaneously pieced together the little clues that had been there for years.

Hecate sat further back, and Ada felt a prickle of curiosity down her spine. Slowly, she pushed the chess mat further away from the fire. The pieces she’d claimed from Ada tipped over as the mat pushed them further out as well. The sound of them falling was like little heralds of the things to come, and Ada’s pulse quickened in response.

Then Hecate was moving closer again—without the mat between them, she could sit directly in front of Ada, knees against knees as she cupped Ada’s face with both hands and pulled her in for another kiss.

Ada was humming happily in her mouth, rising up on her knees to push further into Hecate—Hecate held on tight and tried to remain sane under the sudden surge of sensation and emotion.

Ada’s hands landed lightly on Hecate’s shoulders, and even that innocent touch was like a tidal wave, pulling her further under.

Hecate’s hands responded in kind, leaving Ada’s face to slip lightly down her body, tightening more firmly around her hips. Ada twittered and Hecate couldn’t help but moan at the sound. Then Ada’s hand was slipping up, fingers sliding into Hecate’s hair and pulling slightly, the only anchor as Hecate’s head spun from the desire Ada showed through the simple action.

Being up on her knees put Ada at a slightly higher angle than Hecate (a complete opposite to their usual positions, Hecate thought with a smirk)—and Hecate grew bolder, breaking the kiss to wander further down, lips alighting on Ada’s neck. Ada exhaled softly and shivered, and Hecate felt a surge of victory. _Good_. Ada did want this as much as she did—Ada did want as much as she did, more than just a stolen kiss, more than just a few light touches. Hecate let her teeth test the side of Ada’s neck, and the woman nearly melted into her.

Hecate’s fingers flexing deeper into her hips kept Ada grounded, kept her from simply toppling to the floor (not that such a position would be a bad thing, Ada thought hazily, to be lying next to Hecate, or on top of her, or under her…she wasn’t particularly picky, at this point, as long as it was Hecate and as long as she was close, this close, not an inch further away).

Then she felt the solidness of Hecate’s arms sliding around her waist, pulling her further in. She countered by opening her thighs and sliding easily into Hecate’s lap, feeling a flush of breathless delight for how easily they fit together, how right it felt, as if they’d done this a thousand times before.

She arched back slightly, pulling away enough to get a good look at Hecate, who sat back as well, looking up at her with hazy, glittering eyes and lips already reddened from Ada’s own. She really did look like a painting. A quickly-becoming-obscene painting, but perhaps that was even better.

Hecate became slightly more alert, watching her intently as her hands slipped under Ada’s jumper. Ada wanted to cry from relief at the feeling of Hecate’s palms, weighted and warm, slipping up her spine. However, she stopped, just below the clasp of Ada’s bra. Ada understood—she was still seeking permission, still uncertain of just how far Ada wanted to go.

Just as in chess, Ada preferred the direct approach. She reached down and grabbed the hem of her jumper, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside.

Hecate flushed and one side of her mouth quirked up in delight. Ada had the distinct impression that her point had been made.

With a soft inhale, Hecate dipped her head and nuzzled between Ada’s breasts. Her grip about Ada’s waist tightened as she pressed further, kissing and nipping the softness at the top of the cups. Ada’s thighs tightened involuntarily around Hecate’s hips, and the younger witch’s smug hum sent another bolt of heat straight through her.

Ada felt a gentle tug on the fabric, and realized Hecate was using her teeth. Then, before she’d even truly registered it, Hecate’s nimble fingers had unclasped her bra. Ada countered her movements, helping her remove it completely.

Now Hecate took a moment to sit back, smiling adoringly at Ada’s chest. Over the years, Ada’s breasts had earned a lovely array of admiring looks, she could admit—but none quite so…amused.

“What’s that look about?” She asked teasingly. Hecate looked absolutely charmed and enchanted.

 _Freckles_ , Hecate’s mind answered, rather dumbly. She’d tried rather hard, in the past, not to imagine what Ada looked like under her clothes. She hadn’t even allowed herself to consider that the adorable little freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks when she’d been out in the sun too long would also appear elsewhere.

However, she tempered her verbal response to something less ridiculous. “Just…admiring the view.”

She tightened her grip around Ada’s waist with her left arm, letting her right hand come up to trace a constellation of freckles, fingertip dragging from one point to the next. Ada’s skin rippled with goosebumps and Hecate’s smile deepened.

Looking at her own fingertip dragging across the flushed flesh made Hecate blanche slightly.

“My nails….” She realized. She held her hand up for Ada to better see, blushing as she tried to explain, “With no magic—I mean, usually, I just….”

Ada’s mind raced to catch up, to catch on to her meaning. Hecate’s ring finger and middle finger shifted almost imperceptibly, as if pushing together. Suddenly, she understood—with other lovers, with magic, Hecate usually shortened her nails, before— _oh_ , Ada’s body flooded with heat at the implication.

Hecate saw the moment it clicked for Ada, and she felt a slight measure of relief.

Ada blushed, as if embarrassed. “No, it’s quite alright. We don’t have to—”

“No.” Hecate was certain she startled Ada a bit with her vehemence. “I just meant…I won’t be able to do…everything I wish to do…with you.”

Now Ada’s flush turned to something much more delighted. Then, with a devious grin, she cocked her head to one side in feigned curiosity, “And what might that be, exactly?”

Hecate’s lips twisted into a smirk, shaking her head slightly at Ada’s antics. Her right hand came up to the nape of Ada’s neck, pulling her back into a kiss. Ada’s nipples brushed against the heavy brocade of Hecate’s dress and she shuddered at the roughness. Hecate only held on tighter, pushing further against Ada and creating even more friction.

Ada was whimpering into her mouth and Hecate felt like an opium eater, chasing a high. She needed more of exactly that, of Ada melting and tensing and melting again in her lap, the soft warmth of Ada’s skin under her hands and the heated push of Ada’s moans against her mouth. She shifted her own chest, ever-so-slightly, fully aware of just how much it would affect the woman in her arms. Ada squirmed, as if trying to move away from the overstimulation, but Hecate held on tighter and pushed her tongue past Ada’s teeth again as she let her body shift with the movement. Ada absolutely quaked, thighs tightening around Hecate as her hands scrabbled over Hecate’s shoulders, desperate for an anchor, pushing her own skittering cry straight into Hecate’s lungs.

 _All this, and I’ve barely touched her_ , Hecate realized with absolute wonder. Her knees were beginning to protest from her current sitting position, but goddess above, she wanted to stay like this all night, wanted to make Ada quiver and cry out again and again, exactly like this.

Ada tore her lips away from Hecate’s, keeping their foreheads together as she panted lightly. Hecate shifted, nuzzling her nose further against Ada’s. Even without seeing it, she could feel Hecate’s smug little smirk of pride. This had all started—what, less than fifteen minutes ago?—and Hecate already had her number in ways that some of her longest-term lovers had never understood.

Ada Cackle was in trouble, she knew with absolute clarity. She couldn’t wait to see where it got her.

Hecate kept close, lightly bumping her nose and lips against Ada’s as she shifted—she let her right arm take over the task of holding Ada in place, giving her left hand the chance to slip lower, down to the hem of Ada’s skirt. There was a soft rustle and Ada tried to prepare herself, even though she knew it was a lost cause. Then the light sensation of Hecate’s fingernails on her outer thigh, becoming more solid as they slowly dragged their way up her hip, growling against the fabric of her tights.

 _I won’t be able to do everything I wish to do_ , Hecate’s words sounded in her mind again. She closed her eyes tightly, trying not to shudder under the mere thought of Hecate’s fingers moving further up, further in, slipping inside her and curling just so…

Hecate’s hand was stroking back down her hip, and up again. Lazy, steady, grounding and arousing at the same time. Hecate was shifting against her, nose playing against Ada’s, light, uncommitted to action. Just there, just waiting, just…savoring. Ada sighed happily, realizing that once again, Hecate was watching her nonverbal cues with direct intensity, wanting Ada to be truly ready for each new step forward. Ada let her fingertips lightly stroke the back of Hecate’s neck, softly encouraging her to continue.

With a hum, Hecate dipped her head again, kissing against Ada’s collarbone as her hand slipped up her hip again, fingers sinking into the flesh with such direct desire that Ada’s head spun.

Somehow, Ada was soon on her back, Hecate hovering over her, leaning in-between Ada’s thighs and looking down on her with such intense adoration that Ada’s lungs felt too tight to breathe.

The tightness quickly dissipated under the warm duress of Hecate’s mouth, tracing its way down to Ada’s breasts. Ada arched further into the touch, twittering happily when Hecate’s hand came to cover the breast currently not the center of her mouth’s attentions, fingers kneading and tweaking and teasing—however, now that she knew just how sensitive Ada was, she held back. Ada could sense each time she pulled herself away, each time she actively avoided sending Ada over the edge again.

It was endearing and infuriating—endearing to see Hecate’s gentle attentions, which had been a hallmark of their friendship for years now, being put to such erotic use, and infuriating, to feel the way her body tensed and spiraled, only to be brought back down without release, again and again.

Hecate was toying with her, just a little, she could tell. Delighting in her newfound ability to drive Ada to such a state. And while Ada knew the build-up would be worth the wait, her whining body couldn’t quite agree.

And then ( _gloriously then!_ ) Hecate was shifting, sitting back to delicately peel Ada’s tights away, eventually tilting Ada’s legs straight up in the air to pull them off completely while still staying relatively between her thighs. Ada lowered her feet back to the floor, relishing the warmth of the fire against her bare skin, the even deeper warmth of Hecate’s black skirt between her thighs, brocaded fabric creating the same familiar rough pull as it had against her nipples.

The only thing Ada still wore was her skirt, currently bunched around her hips and certainly not an impediment, at this point. The highlights in her hair, splayed across the rug, danced like the flames of the fire itself, and her skin glowed brilliantly—she truly was beyond anything Hecate could have hoped or imagined. And yet here she was, real and warm and waiting. Hecate tilted her head slightly, fingertips delicately running down the inside of Ada’s right thigh as she smiled softly at the little freckle right above her knee. Never-ending delights, she mused warmly.

Again, Ada thought Hecate looked like a painting, in the light of the fire. Dark lashes drooping over her cheeks, skin flushed, hair a mess, lips curled into a smile of soft wonder. Ada couldn’t look any longer—the light brush of Hecate’s fingertip, slipping into wet heat, made her head snap back against the rug.

Hecate was mindful of her nails, making sure the full pad of her finger was all Ada felt as she traced her way through Ada’s folds, pushing lightly, almost experimentally, at Ada’s clit. Ada bucked and whined, feeling slightly self-conscious at being so easily undone while Hecate sat there, calm and collected as ever.

However, when she glanced down and saw Hecate’s delighted grin, she lost all sense of chagrin. Hecate had realized that Ada’s breasts weren’t her only overly-sensitive spot, and she currently looked as if she’d just been granted a lifetime supply of her favorite potions ingredients.

Still, a girl could only take so much.

“Hecate,” she breathed, no longer feeling self-conscious for her neediness. For some reason, she found her right hand reaching out to the woman, as if to beckon her nearer.

Hecate’s left hand gently clasped around Ada’s wrist, pulling her hand closer. She nuzzled into Ada’s palm, breath gusting hot and heavy against it. She pressed a kiss onto Ada’s heartline, just as her finger pressed against Ada’s clit, this time with more certainty and pressure.

Ada’s entire body clenched, every ounce of air pushing out of her lungs with a low, heavy moan. Hecate’s grip on her wrist tightened, holding her steady. Hecate pressed another open-mouthed kiss on her palm, her fingertip swiveling and circling around Ada’s clit again as well.

Ada was certain the woman was trying to break her completely.

Hecate closed her eyes, dipped her head lower, letting more of her face slide into Ada’s hand. Ada’s finger reacted immediately, curling to brush affectionately against her cheek.

“I just…” Hecate’s voice was barely a whisper, as reverent as whenever she said the sacred chants at solstices and equinoxes. She pushed herself to raise her voice, to make sure Ada heard her, heard every word, “I need you to understand, Ada. I—this isn’t…”

She gave a slight huff of frustration. She knew what would happen, once the line was truly crossed. All her emotions would come tumbling out, and she never wanted Ada to think that the love she declared was something born simply of adrenaline and pheromones. She needed Ada to know that she loved her—that she _had_ loved her, in the quiet times, in the times before this could have ever been possible. She’d been trying to find a way to say it, ever since the first timid kiss.

“I know,” Ada’s fingers stroked against her cheek, bringing her back to the present. Hecate’s eyes opened again, focusing on the woman splayed out before her, blue eyes shining with tears. “I know, dearest. And it isn’t for me, either.”

Hecate’s smile melted across her face, relief and gratitude filling every line. Ada didn’t try to blink away the tears slipping out of the corners of her eyes.

Ada understood. Of course she did. She’d always understood Hecate, better than anyone else (sometimes better than Hecate herself, truth be told).

And Ada felt the same. That was the most important part. Hecate’s chest rippled with fire at the realization that now, there wasn’t a single hesitation left. Ada knew. Ada understood. Now, she could simply enjoy the moment. Simply enjoy Ada.

So now, she flexed her fingers into Ada’s wrist, moving the woman’s hand slowly, letting her lips drag across her palm ( _heartline, headline, fateline, lifeline, let me press myself into your destiny, now and forever_ ) again before settling on Ada’s thumb. Locking gazes with Ada, she lightly bit the pad of Ada’s thumb.

It was promise, Ada understood. Her chest tightened and her pulse skyrocketed with understanding. _Hold on tight, my love, because we’re just getting started._

Hecate placed one last tiny kiss on the tip of Ada’s thumb, that small token of tenderness enough to make Ada swoon. Then she released Ada’s wrist and shifted further back, leaning in to kiss the inside of Ada’s left knee.

Ada’s entire body tensed in anticipation. Hecate took her time, slowly kissing and nipping her way down Ada’s thigh. Slowly, she used her hands to press Ada’s legs wider apart, making a soft, warm sound before fully nuzzling into Ada’s cunt, tongue coming out like a small flame, hot and quick, swirling around Ada’s entrance and filling her with a low moan as Hecate vocalized her approval for the wetness waiting there.

Ada’s hands smacked on the rug, as if she could stop the room from spinning. Hecate’s tongue ensured that wouldn’t be possible in the least.

She was tracing her way through every inch of Ada, setting off ripples and shivers and pushes of more wet heat through her hips long before she actually reached Ada’s clit. Her hands slid around the backs of Ada’s thighs, moving up to tighten at her hips, and Ada knew she wasn’t ready for what came next.

She’d never been so ecstatically delighted to be proven right. It was as if everything before had merely been a big, deep breath before this moment, before Hecate’s tongue truly came out to play—though perhaps _play_ was too light a word for the absolute deluge that followed. Ada couldn’t stop her thighs from squeezing around Hecate’s ears, couldn’t stop the sounds that rose up from the depths of her hips, pulling into her lungs and out of her mouth and filling the room with the most erotic sounds.

Was that her, making all that noise? Everything was a hazy, fuzzy and unfocused beyond the point of Hecate’s mouth on her. And was that Hecate, making those low, almost growling sounds that reverberated inside her, heavy and heady? Those soft, wet sounds—was that her, was that Hecate, making her like that?

That was her voice, she realized. Calling Hecate’s name. Panting and whining and begging. She could feel Hecate’s grip tightening, practically pinning her to the floor. Then Hecate was sucking, hard enough to make her see stars. She arched, falling into the feeling. Hecate was still pushing her, tumbling her under another wave—she took a deep breath and let it take her, shivering and panting and shifting further into Hecate’s touch, her brain mildly registering that Hecate wasn’t going to stop until she was reduced to a mere puddle.

Hecate loved her, she knew with sudden conviction. Of course, Ada had seen the love, in some ways, had misconstrued it to be platonic, but she saw the error of that quite thoroughly now. This was romantic to the core—Hecate had all but said as much, while kissing her hand. Had shown it for ages now, in quiet, indiscernible ways. And now, now that it was all out in the open, Hecate was determined to show her just how much.

Oh, Ada was beginning to truly understand the depth of her best friend’s devotion.

That was something different, too, she realized, her brain fighting to think through another ripple of shivers and electricity. She’d had her fair share of lovers—but none of them had been her best friend, none of them had known her as long or as deeply as Hecate had. The added layer of connection intensified everything. It screamed its way through every action, from the way Hecate’s fingers flexed into her hips while still taking care not to let her nails bite into Ada’s flesh, to the way she rolled her tongue against Ada with such ardent adoration.

All of it was completely crushed under the even more overwhelming realization that after this, after tonight, she’d still have her best friend—but as something even closer. Their friendship had survived its fair share of rocky moments, had been filled with distinct times in which they’d both looked at each other and internally nodded in agreement—they were in this together, always, no matter what. Hecate was her found family, she’d thought this more than once. Her rock in ways that her blood relations had never been. And Hecate had expressed similar sentiments, in her own more reticent way, over the years. They’d chosen each other, time and again.

And now, they were choosing each other in a new way. Or perhaps in a way that had always been, but they were simply finally choosing to acknowledge or express. Either way, they were choosing, _together_. As always.

That was the final straw to send Ada shaking and crying out. She felt the hot streaks of tears, disappearing into her hairline at her temples.

Hecate’s mouth went lower again, tongue flat and heavy as it lapped and lazily swirled at Ada’s entrance, simply enjoying a few more moments of pleasure before she slowly shifted back onto her heels.

Her cheeks were glowing, eyes shining as she lightly wiped her mouth and chin with the back of her hand (she’d made a mess of Ada, in the best of ways, and was quite proud of herself, Ada could tell—the cat who’d quite literally gotten the cream).

“Like I said,” Hecate sounded a bit breathless herself. “If I could use magic on my nails—”

“Hecate,” Ada felt a giggle burbling in her chest. “If you’re seriously about to apologize for _that_ —”

She didn’t finish, too busy smiling in syrupy sweet affection at the woman’s blush. _Overachiever, thy name is Hecate Hardbroom._

“I just…” Hecate ducked her head slightly. “I want it all—with you.”

 _With you._ Ada liked the sound of that. With a wry grin, she pointed out, “There’s still plenty we can do.”

Hecate perked up at that, and this time, Ada couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position again, feeling another flush of warmth for the way Hecate watched her move, eyes hungrily roaming over her body.

Ada’s hands lightly moved to Hecate’s dress, tugging just enough to be felt. “We could start with this.”

Hecate tensed slightly. Ada felt a wave of confusion.

“We don’t have to, though,” Ada added softly, the concern curling around the edges of her tone making Hecate want to cry.

“No, no, it’s not—you don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Hecate supplied, feeling a bit foolish. It was true, she loved every second of laying Ada out and pleasuring her. But the idea of letting Ada do the same—especially if it wasn’t what Ada truly wanted—made her hesitate.

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Ada seemed genuinely confused.

Hecate didn’t truly have an answer, when she thought about it.

Still, Ada prompted, “Do _you_ want to? Because I am more than happy to do as little or as much as you feel comfortable with. Hecate, I love you, and I would never—”

Her words were stopped by the sudden intensity of Hecate’s gaze.

“Say it again,” Hecate breathed. “Please.”

Somehow, Ada understood, “I love you.”

Hecate’s shoulders sagged in relief. Ada wanted to laugh—how could the woman still be so unsure? Then again, she’d been just as uncertain herself, before tonight.

“I love you, too,” Hecate leaned in, recapturing Ada’s mouth in a kiss. Then she was gently taking Ada’s hands, guiding them behind her, to the zipper of her dress. Ada understood the permission being granted, fingertips easily finding the zipper head. Still, she pulled back slightly, blue eyes gauging Hecate’s expression.

Hecate gave a small, curt nod. No hesitation whatsoever.

Ada slowly pulled the zipper. Aside from the logs crackling in the fire, it was the only sound in the room.

The dress’ shoulders were already falling open, sagging down and bringing more of Hecate’s neck into view. Finally, Ada was able to push it down her arms completely. Hecate made quick work of her belt, tossing it aside with a jarring clank as the metal buckle met the hardwood floor beyond the rug. Then she was rising to her feet, towering over Ada as she slid the fabric off her hips and gingerly stepped out of the dress.

She wore a black satin slip underneath, and for an item of clothing that still covered so much, Ada’s body reacted absolutely scandalously. She shifted, rising up onto her knees to gently cage Hecate’s hips between her hands, kissing the softness of her stomach beneath it.

Hecate shivered as her hands sank into Ada’s auburn locks, silently encouraging her to continue. Ada left hot, open-mouthed kisses along her torso, her breath seeping through the thin fabric and staining Hecate’s skin like a tattoo, forever imprinted upon her now.

Hecate was so overwhelmed, she had to look away for a moment, find a way to regain her bearings.

She turned her face from the fire, which suddenly felt too warm.

Across the room, in the panes of the windows, she saw their reflection. Ada, on her knees, clutching her with such desperate desire. Her own self, glowing and disheveled.

She closed her eyes and sank to her knees. Sank further into Ada’s hands, further into the scorching glory of the moment. Ada was peppering her neck and chest with kisses, easing the slip further up, eventually over her head. Then Ada was touching her again, humming and sighing in delight.

 _Ada, Ada, Ada._ If it weren’t for the overwhelming sensations, she’d swear it was all a dream—and if it were somehow still a dream, she prayed never to wake again.

Ada was still so careful and considerate, removing the remainder of her clothing. Stopping, watching her with those searing blue eyes, lust tempered with love, passion overruled by compassion as she continued to assure herself that Hecate still wanted this, that Hecate had no hesitations.

No one had ever given her such a gift, Hecate thought with another grateful sigh. While she’d enjoyed the few lovers she’d taken over the years, there had always been a certain point where all the careful considerations just devolved into a frantic race to the finish. The game was played cautiously, but once success was assured, they practically blew past Hecate like hurricanes, almost as if Hecate wasn’t part of the equation at all. Desperate to take, without a consideration for giving.

That was why Hecate had hesitated, before. It had been a bit confusing, the idea that after Ada had gotten what she needed physically, that giving something to Hecate in return would still be something she needed emotionally.

But Ada had always been her exception. So why should this be any different?

Hecate found herself leaning back, arms bracing behind her as she opened her legs, giving Ada’s hand easier access. Ada’s left hand was planted next to Hecate’s right hip, so close that their skin constantly connected and reconnected with each shift, Ada leaning in to kiss her again as her right hand lightly traced over Hecate’s body, squeezing and sampling and testing and teasing. Hecate arched forward, already far too frazzled to endure any more torture, whining into Ada’s mouth and feeling a wave of frustration for the way Ada smiled through the kiss, smugly aware of how desperately Hecate needed her.

Really, Ada should give Hecate a taste of her own medicine, she thought. Should tease the woman beyond comprehension, like Hecate had teased her. But Hecate was practically levitating, her body so deliciously tense that Ada was certain she might shatter under a single touch.

 _We have time for everything_ , Ada reminded herself. She’d give Hecate what she needed most first, and then indulge her own whims and wants after. Her hand slid down Hecate’s stomach, the heat in her own hips kicking up again in warm satisfaction for the tautness she felt, just beneath the soft skin. Hecate was trembling, so much so that Ada could barely keep her kisses from missing their mark. With one last light smile of anticipation, she sank her fingers inside the younger woman, feeling a small frisson of delighted shock for how Hecate instantly tightened around her.

Hecate let out a long, shaking breath, closing her eyes and tilting her head to the ceiling. Ada curled her fingers and hummed in approval for the way Hecate snapped back to attention at that.

The position wasn’t the best for either of Ada’s wrists, so she was rather thankful that Hecate was already so obviously close to the edge. Still, she gave a few long, lazy strokes, noting the way Hecate reacted to each nuance of the movements before letting her thumb come up to Hecate’s clit, enjoying the deliciously electric feeling of being inside her, of doing and seeing and hearing things she'd never even dared to imagine before.

Hecate’s breathing quickened, and so did Ada’s pace. Before long, Hecate was crying out, curling forward to slam her mouth into Ada’s again, more teeth than tongue as she shuddered and lifted her hips, trying to push further into Ada’s hand. Ada didn’t stop until Hecate had truly ridden out the last wave of her orgasm, slowly sinking back to the ground.

Then Ada was hovering over her, placing light kisses everywhere. Hecate wanted to hold her, to lose her fingers in Ada’s hair again, but she couldn’t quite muster the strength just yet.

 _Soon_ , she promised herself, closing her eyes.

Now Ada took her time, keeping her touches light as she nipped and kissed her way around Hecate’s body. She realized the fire was dying down—it was getting harder and harder to see, which was rather a nuisance, because there was so much she wanted to see.

Then Hecate shivered, and she realized it wasn’t from the stimulation.

By now, Hecate’s hand was lazily carding through her hair, occasionally giving a light tug of affection. Thickly, she murmured, “We should add more wood to the fire.”

Ada hummed in agreement, not really wanting to leave this beautiful bubble of a moment, but knowing they had to, all the same.

Hecate was sitting up, making it harder for Ada to enjoy her breasts and smirking at the little sound of pouting dismay Ada gave in response.

“Fire first,” Hecate cupped her cheek, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Then we’ll continue this discussion.”

Ada shifted to rise to her feet, but Hecate’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. Then, easily, before Ada could protest, she was on her own feet and moving across the room, to the other side of the hearth to grab more fuel and add it to the fire.

The flames rose in reaction to the sudden addition, highlighting Hecate’s completely bare body.

“You really do look like a painting in this light,” Ada announced. This time, her grin was far bolder, far more mischievous.

Hecate stood up straight, taking a moment to simply let the woman look. “Is that so?”

Ada merely hummed. Hecate reached down, scooping up a long-forgotten blanket before returning to Ada.

They quickly found the best way to share a blanket was by laying down—Ada finally shimmied out of her skirt before joining Hecate under the blanket. They curled around each other with a surprising sense of familiarity, easily fitting together once more, as if pieces of a bespoke set. Ada smiled softly, feeling utterly content—the heat of the fire was gently pulsing against her face, the heat of Hecate’s body pressing against her back. It was probably the most romantically clichéd thing she'd ever done, and it made her ridiculously happy.

She felt the light touch of Hecate kissing her shoulder.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” her deputy headmistress drawled. “But I’m rather glad you sister never paid taxes.”

Ada felt the joy bubbling through her lungs, spilling out into the air as giggles. Hecate was shaking behind her, too, laughing softly at the odd quirks of fate. Her arm slipped around Ada’s waist, pulling them closer still.

Ada’s amusement devolved into a warm hum as Hecate nuzzled against her neck.

Hecate pulled back slightly, pushing herself up enough to watch Ada’s profile as the firelight danced across her glowing expression.

Yes, she’d always loved Ada at this time of year. And now, she realized that she had all the more reason to delight in the season—because every year, from now own, it would mark the anniversary of this moment. This shining, golden moment, as beautiful and full of hope as Ada herself.


End file.
